Just Another Sherlolly FanFiction
by solelysherlollyshippers
Summary: This is just a Sherlolly FanFiction that I wrote for all my IG followers. You can follow me for more Sherlolly related things @solely sherlolly shippers!
1. Chapter 1

Note From the Author:

So this is the first chapter of my story. Please feel free to share any comments, questions, or concerns. In order to understand this story you will have to completely disregard the fact that Series 3 came out. If you have seen Series 3 already, then please just read this as if it hadn't came out yet! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Molly had just arrived back at her flat from a rather long and tedious 12-hour shift at the morgue. She had gotten off the tube in just enough time for her to skip up the three flights of stairs, which on this special day seemed like no feat at all, much unlike the long and seemingly infinite three flights she takes down every morn before work, but on this particular day her adrenaline was up so high that she felt her heart might bust right out of her chest. No, she wasn't her normal laid-back Molly self today, I mean how could one not be as excited as she? For today was the day so highly anticipated by any and every one rooting for either Spain or England, today England would take on the reigning champs for the 2014 FIFA World Cup Finals. Now, Molly hadn't ever been one for sports and such, oh such a waste of time. However, ever since the alleged death of the world's only consulting detective she had become closer to her friends and had become somewhat fond of the flourishing friendship between herself and Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and anyone who knew squat about Lestrade would know one thing…. He had a passion for football. Molly and Greg had spent several evenings down at the local sports grill having a nice dinner and catching the football game. Greg had taken the time to explain the game to Molly and she had become incredibly fond of the game as well. On this special day she had invited the whole gang (John Watson, Mary Morstan, Greg Lestrade, & even though she knew she'd never come) to catch the game at her flat, complete with refreshments.

On her way up to the flat she had stopped at the mailboxes in the hall which happened to be so conveniently located right outside her door. As she removed all the mail from the box neatly labeled, _Miss Molly Hooper. _As she unlocked her front door she shuffled through the mail composed of bills, bills, and more bills. Of course she hadn't noticed the small green envelope mixed in with the daily coupons from the local supermarket and bakery located directly across the street from the flat. She always saved the coupons for the bakery in a small basket on the entry-way table, for she was partial to the local bakery for their sweet honey bread. As she dropped the coupons into the basket in which they belonged she didn't realize the petite letter alongside the money savers.

Molly quickly busied herself with detail cleaning the bathroom, a brisk dusting, and arranging the finger foods to allow easy access for those preoccupied fingers (the game is expected to be a nail-biter). Soon her friends would arrive so Molly hurried to get herself freshened up a bit. The first to arrive was Greg, of course, he couldn't miss any of the pregame show! John and his fiancé Mary weren't long after Greg, for Mary just hated being the last one anywhere, especially her best friend's little get together.

John and Mary had met three short months after Sherlock had jumped off St. Bart's just two years ago. The wound of losing his best friend was still fresh and always would hurt but Mary had helped him through the mourning process and filled a place in his heart that he never knew existed. John was just sure that Mary was an angel straight from heaven itself. She came at the time he needed her most and had not only comforted when he was distressed but had wept alongside him. Even though she didn't know Sherlock personally she couldn't help but feel like she knew him. John told stories from when they used to work side by side, Sherlock deducing and himself just being completely and utterly amazed at his accuracy. _Just the two of them, against the rest of the world. _Mary and John were a match made in heaven, if you will, and loved each other from the moment their eyes met.

It was halftime now and England was down 1-0. Spain's defense was dominating and England was having a hard time getting the ball up the field. During the halftime show Mary and her dearest friend Molly decided to run across the street to the bakery to grab a couple of those oh-so-divine honey bread loaves. Before dashing out the door Mary and Molly grabbed their coats and then continued out the door. They scuttled across the rainy street and entered the small bakery. Molly came in first with Mary bringing up the rear, they both stopped and inhaled deeply. The aromas entering their noses were so sweet and savory that they felt as if they were in a loaf of bread at that moment, baking in one of the small ovens lining the back wall of the shop. The head baker turned his attention to the familiar face of Molly Hooper.

"How's my favorite customer on this fine day? Enjoying this weather?" He boomed in a low baritone voice.

"Doing well, thank you for asking! Oh, yes indeed. How's the wife and the boys?" she answered, still amazed by how the bakery smelt.

"Same ole, same ole…. Both Robert and Henry are growing like weeds, eating me out of house and home!" he said while flailing his large, callused hands in the air.

"That's good to hear. Well, Mary and I have just come over to pick up a few of your scrumptious honey loaves!" she stated motioning for Mary to join in on the conversation.

"Just in time, too. I've just got three coming out of the oven! Oh, yes, Mary. How's the ole Doctor Watson doing?" he bellowed while arranging the loaves into the brown paper sack.

"He's doing fine, thanks for asking. Enjoying the game with Lestrade right now." Mary chimed in.

"Wish I could join you, but bread doesn't make itself you know! You enjoy this bread… on the house." Phillip stated with a long rolling chuckle.

"Thank you so!" said Molly, surprised by this uncalled for act of kindness.

"Yes, indeed. Well, we better be on our way. Don't want to miss the any of the match, do we Molly?" Mary reminded sweetly.

"Oh, yes. We better get going. See you Phillip! And thanks again!" called Molly as they walked out the door.

Mary and Molly dashed back across the street, trying not to be hit be the cabs. They raced up the stairs and got to Molly's door just in the nick of time. No sooner then they placed the brown bakery sack on the kitchen table did they hear the commentators on the tellie say that it was time to kick off the second half. As Molly took both Mary's and her coat to hang in the entry hall, Mary pulled out the festive red, white, and blue plates and served a few pieces of the bread to the two men lounging on the large sofa in the tv room. The boys' eyes glued to the television set thanked Mary for the bread and gobbled up the bread quicker than Sherlock could say, "Vatican Cameos". While the others enjoyed the bread, Molly sorted through her mail and added the remaining coupons to her coupon basket. As she went to drop more of _Phillip's money savers _into the basket is when she noticed it. The small mint green colored envelope with her name and address carefully labeled on the front. She turned the petite letter in her hands thinking to herself, _How could this be? He told me he would never be able to contact me again. I-is it, could it be that he's in trouble…. _She quickly cleared her thoughts, _There is no way he would ever say anything again. He's hiding, and he wouldn't be dumb enough to put his name on the return address… Would he? _She carefully turned the envelope over and there in dark fountain pen the address, _221b Baker Street_, and the two letters, _-SH_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The game was over now, England had won with a buzzer beating goal ending the game at 1-2 and defeating the champs. Spain had several good shots on goal but couldn't ever finish successfully. England came back in the second half fighting as hard as ever and their hard work had paid off. People everywhere were going crazy, as you can imagine, and there were several people in the same building as Molly celebrating deep into the night.

After Molly had found the letter she hurriedly hid it somewhere she knew no one would find. She had returned casually, and the rest of the evening had gone by so fast, with all the shouting and carrying ons. Greg had left first, he had to be up early and didn't have time to stick around for long after the match. Molly hadn't even noticed anyone had left until she found herself mesmerized by the television, watching the replays and breakdown of the final match, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and the food put away all precisely labeled and sealed. Mary's doings, obviously, she was a stickler for good housekeeping and cleanliness. Mary had always kept a tidy home, for her mother and father had raised her to do so. She had problems at first "training" John to do the same but he quickly picked up the habits. Lestrade had always poked fun at John, referring to him as "whipped" although John never took offense to those references. For he knew that was only Greg being Greg.

It wasn't until morning that Molly had fully awaken and become aware of her surroundings. After the shock and realization that _HE _had written her after all these long strenuous months of uncontrollable weeping a mourning. Molly had thought about it all night, the envelope, seemingly insignificant it meant so much to her. If this is envelope contained what she thought, then hers and her friend's lives could be turned upside down. She approached the trunk at the foot of her bed and unlatched the top. As the lid was raised she slid her hand through the slit inside the lining of the bottom of the trunk. It took her a moment to find it but she eventually did find the envelope. She carried it over to her small writing desk and used the small envelope opener to cut open the letter. She opened it and pulled out a matching piece of rather expensive looking stationary. The letter was folded so accurately that the folder could have been mistaken for a surgeon. She unfolded the letter carefully, as if she was trying not to disturb a slumbering bear. As she read she couldn't stop the tears from spilling over. By the time she had finished reading the letter she was weeping hysterically.

The next day, a Sunday, Molly headed over to 221b Baker Street to join Mary and John for lunch. She stuffed the letter into her pocket and pulled on her overcoat. She walked outside and was feeling about the way the sky looked, gloomy and depressing. It had been raining/drizzling for going on four days straight. Although she could see the sun playing peek-a-boo through the clouds it was still a typical winter day, complete with the steam escaping her nostrils as she exhaled.

Molly arrived at John and Mary's at around 12 o'clock noon. She walked in to find herself transported from her gloomy self to a relaxing and tranquil place of rest. Mary had always had a way with making people comfortable in her presence, she made everyone feel so special. 221b Baker Street was now John and Mary's residence. Once Sherlock had "passed on" John had met Mary and had a shotgun wedding just six months later. A brief engagement and a short and sweet ceremony with just their closest family and friends. Mary had looked quite elegant in her vintage A-line dress completed with lace accents. John had nearly lost it when he saw her in that dress, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

Even though Molly had been by the flat numerous times since the "death" of Sherlock she was still as surprised as ever to see the place transformed the way it had. Once a dark and an obvious bachelor pad, now a home. A warm home with joy, peace, and love radiating off of everything. This, was a home fit for a family. Even though Mary had put her own spin on the decorating and presentation of the home, she left "several pieces of Sherlock" scattered through the house. For example; she had framed a small section of the previous accent wallpaper on the wall the Sherlock had previously shot and spray painted. There were several things like this throughout the house, that to anyone who didn't know what they meant, then they just seemed to be the statement or accent pieces of the design. John had missed Sherlock dearly and had embraced the changing of the house although he appreciated the small things Mary had allowed him to keep in the design.

Lunch was ready by 12:30 and Molly had assisted Mary in setting the table. She noticed that Mary had pulled out the nicer silverware and had set the table in a more formal way, _Something was up. _Molly knew there was something stirring but she just hadn't had any idea what to expect. Molly was sent down to retrieve to join them for lunch.

Little did Molly and know but John and Mary had very exciting news… Mary was only eight weeks along but she had been showing very early and they decided to let everyone in on the secret before they could make deductions of their own. Of course, John and Mary weren't the only ones with news. Molly had decided on the long trek to Baker Street that she would show John the letter. That little green piece of paper, who knew it could contain something so, so…..


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Mrs. Hudson gasped, "Oh, Mary! You're going to be a terrific mother, I just know it!"

Molly had been so excited for her friend but her mind was preoccupied with Sherlock. She wanted to show her enthusiasm but couldn't hide the concern overtaking her. Molly had stayed long after lunch, just chatting and making small talk as she and Mary cleaned up the dishes and cleared the toy. Mrs. Hudson had gone out to the supermarket to pick up a few things she needed for dinner. Mary had invited Molly to stay for dinner, for it was getting to be that time already, but Molly had decided she better return to her flat. Before saying her goodbyes she slipped John the envelope and told him to read it after she left.

John hadn't thought about what the envelope could hold, but he really never expected to find what he did find. He never in a million years would have thought THIS is what he would discover. _How could this be? He was dead, Molly even did the post mortem. She did it and had told everyone that he was dead… What did he to do? _

Molly made it home about the time that John had called her. Their conversation was long and deep. Molly had confessed everything to John… She had done the unacceptable, she had lied to John and all her friends, and all for a man who never loved her back, never returned her compliments, and hardly ever paid any attention to her outside of the usual compliment just to get him something he wanted. She felt horrible and had decided it was time to fess up.

Sherlock stood in front of the mirror, straightening his coat and flipping up his collar in the way he always had. As he inspected his appearance in the body length reflection that Mycroft had been so gracious as to add to his bedchamber. "Into battle" he muttered as he tied his scarf in the oh-so recognizable way of the only consulting detective. He gently caressed the frame lying on the bedside table. As he gently replaced the frame to its usual spot he swiftly exited the small room.

After work, Doctor Watson had dropped by Molly's flat to return the letter to its rightful owner. When Molly unlocked the door she retrieved the small green envelope from the place it was dropped. She removed her coat, hung it up in the closet and retired to her bedroom for the night. Soon after Molly had slipped into her comfortable nightwear she pulled out the letter from her overcoat's pocket and read the letter over and over again until she fell asleep. She dreamt about the letter all night long. Never did she get a good night's sleep since she read the letter the first time. Tossing and turning all night, she had finally accepted the fact that she just wasn't going to get any good rest. She got out of bed, pulled on her robe, slipped her feet into the plush slippers, and padded down the hall to the kitchen. She made up herself a nice cup of warm milk and sat at the dining room table thinking. Once again she read the letter, this time aloud to herself. Trying her best to think like Sherlock, dissecting the note, word by word. For she still couldn't figure out what he intended the letter to mean.

_Dearest Molly,_

_I know it's been a while since I've contacted you but I just figured now would be a good time to reconnect. I also wanted to thank you greatly for your help, for without your help I might've actually ended up dead, who knows what Moriarty would've done. I can't imagine how hard it was for you to carry on your life as if you hadn't a clue of what really happened. I deeply apologize for the stress and worry I have caused. Although I did want to write you to apologize, I also wanted to tell you that I've finally (after 2 ½ years) found and convicted all of Moriarty's connections! I'm more than happy to hear about you engagement, Mycroft told me, and do wish you a happy life… Of all people, I know you deserve it. _

_I also wanted to tell you that I think it's time that I come out of incognito and continue my life as the world's only consulting detective. I've been hearing that Gavin Lestrade hasn't been doing so well without me. God knows what he's let slide! It does seem that it would be hard to be in a career such as his without the proper resources (me) and still be successful. I just have one more request of you. Could you tell John about everything that happened, as I don't think it would do him any good to hear it from me. I thank you again, Molly Hooper._

_Yours Truly,_

_-SH_

He wrote just like he talked, arrogant and condescending. _How dare he ask HER to tell John, his best friend, she didn't feel it was to be her place to be the bearer of bad news. I loved him and he never loved me, how could he request her to do something like THIS?! Why, that little… _Even though Molly had thought all of these things plus many, more explicit thoughts, she still did as he asked. She confessed to John, and afterwards felt as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Molly had, had so much on her plate that she had prolonged the wedding to her love for far too long.

Tom had bumped into Molly on the train and, he swore it was love at first sight, they hit it off instantly. They quickly exchanged numbers and went on their merry ways. Molly hadn't ever expected to actually hear from Tom, but had just been flattered enough by his sweet compliments that she agreed to share her phone number with him. So, as you can imagine, was beyond ecstatic to receive a call from him that very evening. They set up a day that they were both free, to grab a bite to eat and just chat, get to know each other. This happened for a few weeks and then they decided to start "dating" (they had been dating previously dating but just hadn't referred to it as dating.) Not long afterwards Tom popped the question and, thankfully, Molly had agreed to marry him. She remembered that day like it was yesterday. Molly had known that something was up, for Tom kept tugging on his collar and began sweating like a sinner in church. Tom had taken her to a nice little restaurant and asked her soon after they received their appetizer, he had requested that they put the ring in her silverware. She found it and squealed with joy. He got on his knee and asked her, she hardly waited for him to finish asking the question before blurting out, "YES!" She had been so excited, she was finally able to move on from Sherlock. Even though she knew that she'd always love him, at least she had a man who loved her back. Tom was the sweetest man she'd ever met, much contrary to Mr. Holmes-the younger who was always above everyone else. She was very content with the way her life was going. Despite the fact that she was fond of Tom, she could never get Sherlock out of her mind. Sherlock was the only man she'd ever truly loved.

Back at 221b Baker Street, John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson sat and discussed the unfathomable truth that Sherlock indeed faked his death and was alive! Well, Mrs. Hudson didn't really discuss, she mostly wept and in between waves of uncontrollable tears, she sat quietly and listened to John recount some of the stories of Sherlock and he's adventures. Mary had heard of Sherlock through the years but John normally didn't like to talk about him much due to the fact that he was never going to come back. Now, John was talking in his normal chipper voice that never accompanied the stories of his past journeys alongside the consulting detective. John had read the letter before talking to Molly, which made it a little bit easier to break it to him, but still hurt them both just as much. John still never understood why Sherlock faked his death, that was a question that only Sherlock himself could answer.

Sherlock boarded the small, luxurious jet that Mycroft had sent to return him to his home. He had packed in a hurry and threw his few articles of clothing and his precious few belongings into a duffle bag. As he settled into his seat on the private jet, he pulled out the delicate frame and gazed into the mesmerizing eyes of his one and only love, an unassuming petite pathologist.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Molly's jaw nearly hit the floor, there in her lab, he stood with that same recognizable smirk on his face, that small crooked smile letting everyone know that he knew something that they didn't. She didn't quite know what was happening. _Why is everything is spinning? _Was the only thought that she could form. All she knew is that she was standing there one moment and now, her feet dangling in midair was being spun. She locked her fingers around his neck and let out a giggle. He slowly lowered her back to the ground, and just as her feet were landing, he lightly kissed her cheek. She gasped as she mentally scolded herself, she was an engaged woman, promising to marry a man that loved her more than anything. And in those few moments that _HE _had returned, her mind was in a fog. She didn't know what to do. He could feel her hesitation and drew back.

"I am truly sorry, Molly Hooper." He said as he released her hands. His face looked like a sad puppy that had just come in from the rain, and for once he looked sincere.

"Sherlock!" she chastised. "How could you?! You said you weren't coming back to us, and then all of a sudden YOU decide it's perfectly right to just come barging in here and doing…. Whatever it was that you just did. I need an explanation, sir!"

Sherlock was a taken back by her response, although not surprised by her emotional outburst that soon followed. He didn't speak, didn't try to console her as she wept. He only hugged her, and this time she accepted the friendly gesture. They stood in the lab for a while, Sherlock just holding Molly as she let out everything she had bottled up. When she was done, they released their embrace and she swiftly finished her work as Sherlock sat and watched contently from a stool across the counter. Molly had completed her work and started to put away her things. Sherlock simply observed, giving her some space after the unexpected encounter. They exited the morgue without a word. There was an unspoken agreement that they would head back to Molly's flat and discuss exactly what happened before letting everyone else know what had been going on between the two.

John sat at the edge of the bed and stared at the wall, just thinking about everything that Molly had just told him over the phone. John was literally in shock. He couldn't stop thinking about what he would say to _HIM, how was he to react? I mean, he had already known that Sherlock was alive, he read the letter, but it's different now that Sherlock was actually coming! Sherlock, in 221b Baker Street again?!_ John was distraught, he must consult Mary about his predicament. Yes, Mary, his rock, his anchor in rough seas, the love of his life.

Molly and Sherlock just stared at each other, nothing said, nothing done. Molly didn't really know what to say to him, and Sherlock was busy deducing her to realize the awkwardness of the absent conversation. Sherlock had gathered that Molly was engaged, obviously, and that it wasn't the happiest of relationships, on her part, and that she had longed for…. Something. He could see the longing in her eyes, she didn't seem the Molly that he'd come to know, and eventually love. Sherlock was actually the one who broke the prolonged silence.

"Well…. This is awkward?" He stated, in a puzzled sort of tone, for he wasn't familiar with that word or how that was intended to be used. It was simply his attempt at talking to Molly.

"Want some coffee? Black, two sugars?" Deduced Molly, imitating the smirk that Sherlock was known for.

"Sounds great." Sherlock cheerfully replied.

Molly hurriedly fixed some coffee and Sherlock joined her in the kitchen. He came up and hugged her from behind. This startled her and she faced him with intentions to scold him again for inappropriate behavior to be showing towards an engaged woman! However, Sherlock had other intentions. She turned into him and their eyes met. And right then and there, he spilled out all his feelings for her, which was surprisingly easier than what he had anticipated. Molly's eyes filled with tears but she was able to contain them to her lids. When Sherlock was done he released her and grabbed a mug and brought to his lips so he wouldn't be able to speak anymore. Molly did the same and again they rested in quietude.

Mary and John had a long conversation and had come to the conclusion that they should just formally invite Sherlock and Molly to dinner. Molly received a phone call from her friend inviting herself and Sherlock to dinner the following night around 6:00.

"Well, I better get going, I guess." Sherlock suggested, but something in his voice made it seem as if he didn't necessarily want to, he was just suggesting, probably because that's what he thought was appropriate for the situation.

Molly replied, "B-but where will you stay?!" Both she and Sherlock were startled by the alertness in her voice. Molly blushed at the outburst.

Smiling Sherlock answered, "Well, I figured I'd find a nice park bench."

Molly and he both let out an exhausted laugh at the joke, not even that either of them found it the least bit humorous but rather that they were relaxed and tranquilized by each other's presence. Molly offered him one of her two extra bedrooms for him to take, but he politely refused and excused himself with a brief embrace and a quick thank you and disappeared down the hall. Molly closed and latched the door and sighed with relief.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

As Sherlock hit the cool, crisp air of the night he couldn't help it. He was just fine a second ago, and now, he was bawling like a big baby! _What in the world are you doing?! _He thought. Sherlock was relieved to see Molly and that she wasn't harmed in anyway, other than emotionally, by his absence. The consulting detective continued down the sidewalk a little ways before hailing a cab.

Mycroft turned to Anthea, "We must move Jim's surveillance to a level 3 code blue."

Anthea gave a curt nod before finishing the conversation with, "Is there anything else I could do to be of assistance to you, sir?"

Mycroft simply shook his head no, and Anthea excused herself to finish her work. Mr. Holmes the older still had yet to let Sherlock know that _HE_ was still out there, but he felt it that Sherlock was safe as long as he didn't go gallivanting around with his collar up looking for the consulting criminal, _Ghastly! _ Despite Mycroft's tough exterior, he had always felt that he had to protect his little brother. He had tried his best to protect the other one… and always blamed himself for what happened.

John assisted his pregnant wife in setting the table as Mrs. Hudson finished the stew. Sherlock and Molly made their way up the stairs and entered the flat. Sherlock was immediately relieved to see that John was safe, and doing very well, he had a beautiful wife who loved him, (something he deduced courtesy of his superb observational skills) a home, and a whole new life. Sherlock stumbled backwards a few feet before regaining his balance again. Mrs. Hudson had darted to him, quick as a little mouse evading an angry maid with a broom, when she spotted him. To everyone's surprise Sherlock returned the embrace and kissed her forehead.

"No need for more mourning, I'm home now." He consoled his former landlord as he held her snuggly against his lean body.

That there was enough to set Mrs. Hudson off again. She howled like a werewolf during a full moon, Sherlock had managed to move her to the sofa and wrapped a long, gangly arm around her shoulders. By the time Mrs. Hudson calmed herself, Mary had the table set and the food served.

Mary waddled, as all pregnant women are known for, to the living area to see what all the fuss was about. In the most motherly voice ever spoken she called them to wash up and be seated. Once everyone was seated is when the real drama started. Sherlock and Molly had busied themselves from their time of arrival, to the time they were seated consoling Mrs. Hudson. They didn't even get the chance to greet their friends.

John and Mary were on one side of the long cedar-stained dining table, with Sherlock and Molly across the way. Mrs. Hudson, seated next to Molly, continually made remarks through the evening such as, "Would you look at that, Sherlock back home unharmed and safe once again!" and, "It's good to have everything back to some normalcy around here" Sherlock had been the closest thing to a son to Mrs. Hudson and, since he helped insure the sentence of her late husband, had developed a relationship that imitated that of a mother and son. She had missed him dearly and had convinced herself that he just couldn't be dead, Mrs. Hudson refused to accept Sherlock to be gone forever.

The dinner started out very nice, with Molly and Mary making small talk about the latest episode of their favorite soap opera. John and Sherlock never made eye contact, for Sherlock feared that John might strangle him if he said anything on the matter of his disappearance.

Mary was the one who started the big fuss, it was an accident on her part, due to all the high emotions and the tenseness of the room. Eventually, the argument would have started but Mary helped it along all the same. It had started with Mary simply sharing her story of how she and John had met and filled in Sherlock on all the things that had happened since he was gone, "Yes, John had this horrid moustache for the longest time! I couldn't get him to shave it off, and of course Greg had to turn it into a joke of some sort, oh, you know how he likes to kid. He would always refer to it as John's mournstache, isn't that just awful? He's such a comic, isn't he?"

Sherlock listened, doing a grand job at mimicking a person who hadn't already heard all these things through his older brother, nodding when it was appropriate and chuckling at what was intended to be taken in a kidding manner. John had seen right through his act however, and interrupted Mary during her story yelling and making blind accusations of Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson had excused herself after properly thanking Mary for supper, under the hysterical shouts of Doctor Watson. Molly and Mary sat, taking in the whole situation and then decided to clear the table, as John continued on his one sided argument. Sherlock took the tongue lashing like a champ, listening, never interrupting the furious man, who was now less than three feet away from his own neck. He began to feel a little uneasy at the rate that the Doctor was closing in on the steak knife just to the left of his plate. By the time John was finished screaming all sorts of explicit profanity at his former best friend he just collapsed in his chair, obviously exhausted from the energy it took to be angry.

Sherlock didn't respond until everyone was completely calm and seemed to be done yelling at him. He didn't think it was proper to go through his entire plan, and how he and Mycroft faked his death, so instead replied with, "I understand that all of you are angry, and I would be too if I were in your shoes. I just want you to know that I did it all to protect you… I couldn't bear to lose any of you and Moriarty promised to kill all of you if I hadn't have jumped off that roof. John, I truly and deeply apologize for all the hurt I have caused you."

John didn't have a clue on how to answer this so he responded with silence for the rest of the evening. During John's prolonged silence, Mary continued to fill in Sherlock about everything that had happened. Sherlock hadn't known Mary but for about an hour and a half now, but had become very fond of her very quickly. He realized that John had indeed found the woman he belonged with. Not long before Sherlock and Molly excused themselves home, Mary had asked the same question that Molly had just the night before, "So, Sherlock, where is it that you are staying nowadays?"

"Well, last night I just got one of those inexpensive motel rooms, you know, the kind that makes one feel a bit queasy when they hear the unusual creaking sound that escapes the bed when you go to retire for the night. Yeah, one of those kinds." Sherlock answered.

Molly turned to Sherlock, their eyes meeting. You see, Molly had thought that Sherlock was being serious but saw that sly, playful glimmer in his eye as they broke their gaze. Sherlock, Molly, and Mary all laughed at the consulting detective's response, as Molly and Sherlock once again dawned their oh-so-warm overcoats. Sherlock, as normal, flipped up his collar and a wide smirked crawled across his lips as he realized that Molly was rolling her eyes in joking disgust at his arrogant actions. Mary walked them out the front door, John bringing up the rear and softly calling, a forced (by Mary), farewell as they entered the cab.

In the cab, Sherlock and Molly made brief conversation before arriving at Molly's flat. Sherlock, to Molly's surprise, quickly exited the cab, ran around the back, and opened the door for her. _He's being oddly considerate since his return… And what's with him being so sweet to Mrs. Hudson during her crying session? _Thought Molly as she gladly accepted the consulting detective's hand, as he helped her across the puddle.

Moly invited Sherlock to come up and join her for tea. Sherlock hesitated at first, but soon decided that one cup of tea couldn't hurt anything. The pathologist and the detective made their way up into Molly's flat. Once inside, Sherlock helped Molly out of her coat and hung both hers and his own in the entry-way closet as Molly busied herself with putting the kettle on.

Shortly after Sherlock settled into the oversized armchair in the main living area with the newspaper, Molly brought in their tea. As she poured the tea, Sherlock read aloud the headline, "Fake Genius Lives!"

"How in the world could they already know?!" Sherlock spat and he grabbed up his tea and saucer.

"Word travels fast in the press, I suppose." Molly consoled as she sat directly across from the angry man, gently thumbing through the Home Décor magazine lying on the side table.

"Well, I reckon it would've come out sooner or later. I was hoping later, to be honest. I really wanted to surprise everyone… Jump out of a cake or something." He chuckled.

Molly responded with a light smile, obviously not listening and was preoccupied with the kitchen remodeling found on page 34 of the DIY section.

Sherlock sipped his tea, and was just starting to descend into his Mind Palace, when his phone vibrated and woke him with a start. He turned over the device and lit up the screen.

Molly's eyes darted to the consulting detective, "Oh, no. What is it now? Tell me Sherlock, what has happened _this_ time?"

Molly had never seen so much pain in those pale blue, usually smiling, eyes that belonged to the world's only consulting detective before. She immediately stood up and made her way across the room to him. Sherlock watched her, still stunned by the news, until she had seated herself on the armrest of the chair in which he was occupying at the moment. The petite pathologist peered over Sherlock's shoulder trying to make out what was upsetting him so much. There on the screen, a simple sentence, a sentence that made so much more sense once she read the last two letters. At the end of that unassuming little text message was the signature she dreaded since the day she had read Sherlock's letter. She knew he'd return, even though she had done his post mortem as well, she always had thought that it wasn't him, even though all the DNA tests checked out… She had always had that one doubt.

_Did you miss me? -JM_


End file.
